They shrug their immense shoulders.
The past is buried in the shards
and glyphs of their bellies. Nothing is still,
the shifting tectonic plates
constantly pushing us imperceptibly
toward the sky. Millennium ago,
you and I were two tiny seeds,
the size of these two pills
we just swallowed.
When you wrap your legs
around my waist I taste the black earth
in your skin, that oldest version of us:
our intricately inseparable roots,
our hopelessly entangled limbs.